


Coco Teacher!au: The Extra Scenes

by death_frisbee, im_fairly_witty



Series: Coco Teacher!AU [7]
Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Gen, Many small stories written on tumblr for the teacher au, but this is the loose ends, collected here for your reading pleasure, never before seen on ao3, not big enough for a one shot but still important extra scenes, we'll keep adding to this by adding more chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:56:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14025570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/death_frisbee/pseuds/death_frisbee, https://archiveofourown.org/users/im_fairly_witty/pseuds/im_fairly_witty
Summary: Over on Tumblr we end up writing a LOT of extra mini scenes and backstory for the au that aren't quite one-shots or aren't quite prose, but are still important and fun to read.By popular request, we're going to start assembling this collection of misc here in this fic, adding them on as multiple small chapters so all these small bits don't get lost in the depths of our Tumblr archives forever.Also be sure to subscribe to the Teacher!au as a series to make sure you get updated whenever we add extra content to the series here on AO3, not just the main storyline!Enjoy![Note that death_frisbee is slusheeduck on tumblr and im_fairly_witty is im-fairly-whitty on tumblr. Many of these extra bits are posted in the same form that they were written, as answers to tumblr asks from teacher!au fans.]





	1. Chorizo: The near death of a teacher and the absolute death of a hipster

It was  _supposed_  to be a romantic breakfast. Hector was going to make a meal so amazing that Imelda couldn’t tease him about his terrible cooking ever again.

The recipe from the website looked  _so_  simple, Hector was convinced that not even  _he_  could mess it up.

I MEAN LOOK AT THE [WEBSITE PICTURE](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.budgetbytes.com%2F2017%2F04%2Fchorizo-breakfast-hash%2F&t=NDVhMTU5ZDMxYjhlYmQ1Y2FkOWQyNThkMTEyOTVlZjRiMjEyNzYyOSxIS0h0dmdhUg%3D%3D&b=t%3AQ30Ki5BZatmPrx7X1F9Y4w&p=https%3A%2F%2Fim-fairly-whitty.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F170740267954%2Fhas-has-profe-hector-ever-actually-accidentally&m=1) HOW COULD IT NOT BE PERFECT.

Maybe it was because he’d accidentally left the eggs out overnight, maybe it was because he’d found the meat in the back of his fridge ( _Yes! One less shopping trip!_ ). 

Whatever the reason, not only did Imelda seem to sense something was wrong and turn it down, wounding Hector deeply, but later that evening Hector was completely doubled over in excruciating abdominal pain. 

By the time Ernesto arrived home from work late that night Hector was curled up on the bathroom floor, pale and listless, having passed from vomiting to painful dry heaving an hour earlier.

Hector had tried to say he was fine, but Ernesto scooped him up and drove him straight to the hospital, ignoring Hector’s weakening protests the whole drive there. Ernesto had snapped at Hector to shut up, that he looked like death and that besides, they had a gig the next night that they couldn’t cancel just because Hector had taken it upon himself to die of food poisoning. 

They missed the gig anyway. Twenty-four hours and several bags of IV fluid later, Hector was released from the hospital with strict instructions to lie low for a couple days and  _watch what he ate_.

Fortunately for Hector, this had resulted in several (sternly) sympathetic visits from Imelda over the next few days. 

Unfortunately for Hector, by the time he returned to school the next Monday every student (and several teachers) who saw him gleefully sang out “¡Hola Profe Chorizo!”

No, he’s never lived it down. And no, he still can’t even  _think_  about chorizo without turning a little green.

 

\----------

 

**Anonymous**  asked:

(Teacher AU) Ernesto, what was your reaction to the time your roommate accidentally gave himself food poisoning?

 

**[slusheeduck](http://slusheeduck.tumblr.com/post/171902986618/teacher-au-ernesto-what-was-your-reaction-to)**  answered:

You mean when he was an  _idiot_ and almost died from some chorizo?

I was the one who insisted he go to the emergency room; he was fully intending on just “riding it out”. You have to understand that he looked like death, he wasn’t able to keep  _anything_ down, and he still insisted that he was “fine” when he was practically passed out on our bathroom floor.

We ended up having to miss a whole weekend of shows, which I wasn’t too happy about, but Hector did manage to survive, which was good. He can be stupid,  _especially_ when it comes to “his diosa,” but I wouldn’t ever want him  _dead._

 

 

_\----------_

 

**[wee-chlo](http://wee-chlo.tumblr.com/)**  asked:

I was listening to John Mulaney and there was a part where he described how he was drinking with a friend who was a teacher and she was “drinking like a machine” and he was like “don’t you have to teach tomorrow?” “I’ll just show a video!” “That’s why teachers show videos?!” “Yeah, I don’t wanna /work/!” “Pretty sure the kids don’t wanna be there either...” “GOOD” That’s. That’s gotta be somebody in the Teacher AU.

 

**[im-fairly-whitty](https://im-fairly-whitty.tumblr.com/post/171579872234/i-was-listening-to-john-mulaney-and-there-was-a)**  answered:

Yup, that would be Gustavo, the 10th grade history teacher. While Héctor can get along with just about anyone, Gustavo is perhaps the one exception. 

Not only does Gustavo always wear ridiculously hipster fedoras and scarves and vests, boast that he can play the violin better than Héctor can play guitar, and  _constantly_  complain in the breakroom about how students aren’t able to appreciate his superior teaching skills, Gustavo will NOT SHUT UP about the time Héctor got food poisoning.

Like, seriously. It’s been nearly a year but  _every time_ Héctor walks into the break room it’s all “HEY CHORIZO.”

Seriously. What a self-important jerk.

 

 [slusheeduck](http://slusheeduck.tumblr.com/post/171596363148)

By the time the end of the year rolled around, something happened to Hector that had never happened before.

He’d reached the end of his rope.

His entire life, he was used to rolling with the punches. Teasing, names, bragging, none of that ever really phased him. And the first few dozen times Gustavo called him “Chorizo” didn’t bother him. Neither did the first couple months of Gustavo loudly saying how  _anyone_ could play guitar and la directora  _clearly_ made a mistake hiring some two-bit musician. Of course, she could have asked  _him,_ an accomplished violinist, to take over the music department (which, of course, he would decline, because he had to think of all the students who loved his history class.) But then again, music teachers didn’t really  _do_ much, did they? Hector was able to laugh all of that off at first. 

But by the end of the year?

By the end of the year, he was  _done._

Hector was the one who suggested Gustavo bring his violin to the end of year party at Maestra Selena’s place, so they could have a game of dueling instruments. Just a little bit of friendly competition between musicians, of course. Naturally, Gustavo didn’t back away from a chance to show off his ‘sweet, sweet skills,” and the rest of the staff were all excitement (even la directora popped by to see it, and she’d been downright icy toward Rivera since one of the students spilled about their relationship a couple weeks ago.)

The party went silent as the two of them started to tune their instruments, and Gustavo was the one who asked, “So what’re we playing, Chorizo? Classical? Jazz? Our choice?”

Taking extra care to make sure his E chord sounded right, Hector serenely said, “Oh, I think we should just settle for ‘Estrellita’. Something simple, you know?”

Gustavo snorted. “Seriously? A kid’s song?” He smirked at the other teachers as he played a quick scale. “Come on,  _Chorizo_ , give me some kind of  _challenge_.”

Hector gave his guitar a quiet strum, then looked up at Gustavo. He was smiling, yes, but  _everyone_ could see the way his eyes blazed as he said, “All right. Then let’s switch instruments.”

Gustavo’s smile died, but before he could give any form of protest, Hector held out his guitar. “Ah, come on, amigo.  _Anyone_ can play guitar, right? Show us your best.”

There wasn’t any way for him to protest. So, tilting his fedora back, he took the guitar with a little puff. He gave a quick glance around the room, then adjusted the guitar in his hands before very,  _very_ slowly plucking out a surprisingly competent and on-key “Estrellita.” He finished with a smirk as the staff gave a small round of applause.

“See, it’s pretty easy to switch between string instruments,” he said with a shrug. as he handed the guitar back to Hector. “Though violin’s gonna be pretty tough; if you don’t have control over your bow, it sounds like a dying cat. So get ready to cover your ears, damas y caballeros.”

Hector gave him an appreciative nod. But, as he walked over to take Gustavo’s violin, he said, in a voice soft enough that only Gustavo could hear, “Do you know who Alina Marquez is? The one who’s playing with the Los Angeles Philharmonic?”

Gustavo looked at him curiously. “Uh,  _obviously_. Any Mexican who’s  _touched_ a violin knows who she is.”

Hector nodded, looking over the bow before he said, in a whisper that was barely audible, “ _She taught me this in university.”_

Without another word, he launched into Mozart’s rendition of the song. It wasn’t flawless, but, given the look on Gustavo’s face and the enthusiastic claps from the rest of the staff as he finished, it was  _pretty_ clear that Hector won.

He didn’t ever tell anyone that that was the  _only_ song he could play on violin. But, given the way that Gustavo  _immediately_ stopped calling him Chorizo once the new school year started, it wasn’t like anyone needed to know. 


	2. Parent Teacher Conference: Death of a Hipster Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ask:   
> Parent/teacher conference for Miguel in teacher au- is there one? How did Hector handle that? Did Imelda go with him? Having to do a conference with my principal about their child (or pseudo child I guess in this case) would make me a nervous WRECK!

So Gustavo teaches 10th-grade history, but sometimes he gets asked to teach other classes too.

Like Miguel’s social studies class. 

He’s a good teacher, a great one even, a figure of untapped brilliance if you ask him. But sometimes he just gets students who don’t appreciate his teaching gifts and hey, that’s the kid’s problem, or more specifically, their guardian's problem.

Like Miguel. In social studies class. 

Does Miguel talk too much in class? Oh yeah. Does he turn in his assignments on time? Well mostly, but  _not all the time._  And what about that time he gritoed right in the middle of learning about recycling? 

It’s not Gustavo’s fault this kid is obviously cut out for a life in prison, a lost cause you might say. Or at least he will be during parent-teacher conferences, when a certain stuck-up music teacher comes in with his kid to have a chat. Hector could use some cutting down to size after humiliating Gustavo in front of the entire staff last year, and this seems like the prime opportunity to do it.

Gustavo’s got all of his totally not-blown-out-of-context notes on Miguel’s hopelessly criminal behavior stacked up on his desk, and he sees that Hector’s up next on the schedule to meet with him, and he’s got the smuggest grin on his face when he looks to the door and sees…

…La Directora walk in.  

And she’s holding Miguel’s hand.

Because apparently Hector is busy with his own students and she’s taking over for the night.

Because of course she is. 

Gustavo briefly debates throwing himself through the classroom window, but he isn't sure whether or not his health insurance would cover it. 

So instead he slaps on a smile as his boss sits down in one of the plastic chairs across the desk from him and tries not to throw up as he casually knocks his “notes” into the trashcan with his elbow.

Imelda reports to Hector later that night that while Miguel’s social studies teacher seemed very disorganized and flustered, something she’ll have to look into later during his performance report, Miguel is reported to have been doing excellently in his class.

Gustavo’s internet search history that night includes “signs of heart attack” and “teacher job listings near me.”


	3. The Night Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night before Miguel goes back to Santa Cecilia, and Imelda knows that Hector is exhausted even if he won't admit it.

“I couldn’t sleep either.”

“Imelda,” Héctor said, looking absolutely exhausted as he stood in his doorway. “It’s two am, you’ve got to drive home tomorrow.”

“And you have an even longer drive to take Miguel back to Santa Cecilia.” She said, “I can’t go to bed knowing that you’re going to be staring at the wall all night.”

Imelda had meant it to be something of a joke, but Héctor just grimaced as he silently stared at the ground.

It was his last night with Miguel, who had been put to bed hours ago. Imelda had been over earlier to help with last minute packing, but had had to leave for some last minute work that needed to be done before her Christmas break started in earnest.

“Héctor.” she took his hand, “You need to sleep.”

“I can’t.” He said, not meeting her gaze. “I’ve got too many things on my mind. I’m not tired anyway though, I’ll be fine.”

“You haven’t slept in days.” Imelda said, walking into the apartment and closing the door behind her.

A small pile of boxes and bags was stacked in the entryway, a sign of tomorrow’s, well, later today’s, activity.

The rest of the apartment was fairly disheveled, probably partially because Ernesto had been gone for the last couple of days. Héctor hadn’t told her exactly what had happened at their last concert a few days ago, but she hadn’t seen Ernesto since.

Aside from that, things were also a mess from untangling all of Miguel’s things from all over the apartment. His backpack no longer hanging from its usual kitchen chair, no books or comic books were littered by the couch, no toys to be seen anywhere.

It made the apartment feel like half of its life had been stripped away already.

“You’ve got everything ready?” Imelda asked, leaning against him as they looked at the dimly lit apartment together.

“I’ve probably triple checked everything.” Héctor sighed, resting his chin on her head. The way he leaned on her betrayed just how worn out he really was. “Nothing left to do now but wait for morning.”

“Well I’m tired, even if you aren’t.” Imelda said, pulling away and leading him to the couch. “Will you sit with me for a while?”

“Of course, mi amor.” Héctor said, letting her pull him down to lay on the couch beside her. “You really could go back to bed, I’m fine.”

Imelda said nothing as she shifted on the couch, pulling him towards her so that his back was up against her chest. Of all the lies he had ever told her, “I’m fine” was both the most common and her least favorite.

He sighed as she gently kissed the back of his neck and then began running her fingers through his hair. She could feel him relax against her as she methodically combed through his tangles, pausing to work through the snags. Knowing him he probably hadn’t brushed it in days.

She could have started talking, but instead kept quiet as she rhythmically stroked through his hair, letting her motions fall into a soothing pattern.

He’d done so well getting things ready for Miguel to leave, even when she knew he’d hated every moment of it. She’d had to be the one to remind him to take care of himself as well, making sure that he was eating and sleeping with varied success.

Imelda didn’t know how long it took, it could have been minutes or an hour, but she smiled slightly when she heard Héctor’s breathing shift slower as he finally dropped into unconsciousness.

She closed her eyes as she put her arm around him, breathing in his scent as she let herself start to drift off as well.

She wished that somehow she could go to Santa Cecilia tomorrow, but she already had holiday plans and he’d insisted that he handle it himself. If she couldn’t be there with him tomorrow, at least she knew she would be there for him before and after.

They would talk later, they’d already talked so much over the last week and there would be plenty more to come.

But for now he needed rest, and if she could help with that, then that is exactly what she was going to do.


End file.
